


Beer and Boo-Hoos

by BarPurple



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Beer, Chick-Flick Moments, Emotions, Gen, Male Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 14:16:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4482434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even villains need a night out with a shoulder to cry on. Honestly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Evil has many faces, unless you hail from the Enchanted Forest or currently use the zip code for Storybrooke, Maine. In that case the face of evil will pretty much always be the face of the local pawnbroker.

Imp, Crocodile, Beast, Dark One and Mr Gold. He’s gone by many names, but all those titles have done is add another layer to the mask. There are times when even Rumpelstiltskin wants to have a chat with an equal, someone who can understand where he’s been and where he’s going without using the information to destroy him. That sort of person doesn’t exisit in Storybrooke. Fortunately for Mr Gold, Storybrooke is not the only realm available to him. 

He won’t have to go all the way to New York this time. There is a little bar just beyond the diner outside Storybrooke that will serve his purposes perfectly. Sending out the invitation is a simple matter with a tin box and a few common herbs, scarcely even magic by his standards. In reply red and orange flames burn two letters into the wood of his counter top. Mr Gold shakes his head and waves his hand causing the flaming ‘OK’ to extinguish and the wood to repair. 

Crowley always was a touch dramatic.


	2. Chapter 2

The well-dressed Brit had been sitting at the bar for a while now and to be honest he was making Kirk uncomfortable. The guy was eyeballing his second bourbon and he looked like he could be either a crier or a fighter. The bar saw a few of both every week, but it was only Tuesday and the place was pretty empty, so if he turned out to be a fighter then his choice was limited. Kirk didn’t want him to swing a punch at the tough looking pair of guys at the far side of the bar, or at himself. Kirk wasn’t a little guy and he thought there was a fair chance he’d give the Brit a coronary if he pushed him back. It was a relief when the skinny guy with the Braveheart accent walked in and ordered them a bottle of the real good bourbon.

“Bring it over to the booth. And make sure the glasses are clean.”

Kirk just nodded and found himself hoping these two jerks would duke it out just so he could see Skinny get his teeth knocked out by Brit. A shiver passed through him and he hurried to get their drinks to their booth as quick as possible.


	3. Chapter 3

“It’s been a while Rumple. How is dear Belle?”

As usual Crowley cut straight to the quick. The residents of Storybrooke might have taken cover at this point expecting some magical retribution to be hurled. Seeing the Dark One roll his eyes and sigh would not have been the response they were bracing for.

“Still seeing the best in me. I don’t know how she does it.”

Crowley snorted and topped off their glasses.

“From what I understand of your world that could be just how she is written, though what she did to deserve such a fate is beyond even my imagining.”

Gold’s shoulders sagged further as he slumped and rested his elbows on the table, his head in his hands. 

“I want to be the man she sees, Crowley, I really do, but…”

Crowley eyed him over the rim of his glass and realized that Rumple wasn’t going to finish that sentence, so he did it for him.

“But the power is always to tempting. Anyway how can you be the man she sees without the power, without the magic?”

“Do you think it’s worth it? The trouble we go too to get the power we seek.”

“Doesn’t matter if it’s worth it or not. We wouldn’t change it and we can’t stop doing it. The devils we’ve become are the devils we are. There’s nothing else too us now.”

Rumple nodded sadly and the two men finished their glasses in silence. Crowley filled the glasses to the brim again and heaved a sigh.

“I’m not even sure we could be anything other than we are. I’ve seen first-hand the effort fate and destiny put into their plans and trust me it’s almost impossible to swim against the tide.”

Rumple lifted his head from his hands and stared at Crowley.

“So even in your world of free will and no authors there is still something writing the script and pulling the strings?”

“Oh yeah, and the bastard has a sick sense of humour. And yes, coming from me that is a professional opinion.”

Rumple sat back against the padded bench seat of the booth. His hands hung between his knees, shoulders slouched, and he looked the picture of abject misery.

Crowley had wedged himself into the corner of the booth and had one foot propped on the seat. His arm rested on his bent knee idly rocking the glass of bourbon back and forth. There made have been an initial impression of, well, devil may care about him, but there was a strong scent of despair emanating from him for those with the sense to pick up on it.

“Do you get bored with it all Rumple?”

The Dark One twirled his fingers to get Crowley to continue.

“The way everything is always the bloody same. I thought I could change Hell, but demons are so stupid. Show them a different way and they nod, smile and keep making the same mistakes. And I go along with it. Just like you and Belle. She must know that you’re not going to change, but she keeps finding just enough good in you to give you hope that you might get your happy ending.”

Gold was nodding in agreement to every word.

“Is that the hell you’d give me then? My sweet Belle in all her hopeful, wonderful beauty?”

Crowley snorted.

“I’m the King of Hell, mate, and even I’m not that cruel. You have to be a hero or something to think up serious nastiness like that. Dangling your reward under your nose without giving you the ability to ever reach it and hold her tight forever.”

Rumple topped up the bourbon and signalled to the barman for another. The youth raised his eyebrows but hurried to comply.

“You’re right I can’t get her, because I can’t give up magic. That’s pathetic.”

“Yeah, a bit, but then again look at these bloody heroes. They get the villains they make or deserve. So, maybe it’s their fault that we have all of this bloody angst.”  
“But they are the most angst ridden lot I’ve ever heard of, your Winchesters I mean.”

“Exactly and look at some of the shady stuff they’ve done in the past. Time and time again overstepping their goodie-two shoes onto my evil turf. Is it any wonder I have to do good shit to keep the balance?”

Rumple mused for a long moment.

“I always tell them magic comes with a price and do you know they always agree to it even before I’ve told them the cost. I mean coming to someone called the Dark One has got to be a bit dodgy hasn’t it? So, by you reckoning these heroes have already crossed into the shady side of the street just by visiting me.”

“Oh yeah. It’s like the idiots who summon a crossroads demon they’re already going a bit dark, but the evil ones have to give them a fighting chance, even though they’ll still do whatever they want and still be convinced they’ve got good on their side and the fault is ours. It’s like the minion killing thing.”

“Yeah. Wait what minion killing thing?”

“Y’know when you break into a place or escape you kill a few guards on the way right. Well when we do that it’s all evily-wevily, but when the heroes do it its all bloody heroic and fine and dandy. Makes me sick.”

Rumple was counting something under his breath.

“True, but overall we’re still responsible for more death than the heroes. Maybe it’s just a case of numbers.”

“If that’s true then there’s an upper limit to the number of people a hero can kill before they turn dark. Have you ever known it be that black and white?”

The two men shared a look and a bitter laugh. Nothing in either of their experiences had ever been a simple matter of black and white. Crowley was lost in contemplation of his whiskey from a few moments when Rumple said:

“What started you on this path Crowley?”

Crowley turned his gaze to his drinking companion and came to a decision. Lies are supposed to be the stock in trade of the King of Hell, but Crowley spoke the unvarnished truth as he said;

“Love. I wanted to be loved. All my life I’d never been loved and it was like a gaping hole inside me. You shouldn’t be able to feel the lack of something you’ve never had, but there it was. This sucking hole inside me, pointing out how I was so different from everyone else and they had everything so much better than I did.”

Crowley ran his hand over his face and sighed.

“We started for the same reason, just from different directions, Rumple.”

Rumple nodded slowly and sadly.

“You were trying to find love and I was trying to hold love too tight. And look where it got us Crowley.”

Crowley snorted derisively and tipped the last of the second bottle into their glasses.

“Drinking cheap sour mash on a Tuesday evening in a dive bar in Maine of all places.”

The men toasted that with a clink of glass and downed the last of the whiskey. The atmosphere between them subtly shifted. The air of despair retreated back into the dark recesses of their tattered souls and was locked away behind the masks they presented to the world.

“What’s on the cards for you then Crowley?”

“Taking more souls for Hell. I’m going to need more demons, there’s going to be a severe downsizing to weed out the complete idiots, which could mean all of them. And you Dark One?”

“I need to get a better grip on the way magic works in this insane realm. I have an idea for a new curse that will make the one I tricked Regina into casting look like a picnic in the park.”

Crowley unfolded himself from the booth and rose. Rumple followed him slightly slowly as he negotiated his cane around the table legs. Coats settled on shoulders and looking as if they’d drunk nothing more that mineral water the two men ambled towards the door.

“Always liked that cane Rumple. There’s no magic in it is there?”

“No more than that of misdirection Crowley.”

With a companionable nod the two men left the bar together.


	4. Chapter 4

At the far side of the bar the two tough looking men Kirk had been steadily supplying with beer and nachos blew out a deep breath and relaxed a little.

“That was disturbing.”

Dean Winchester grinned and nodded at Captain Hook.

“You never heard the bad guy getting all chick flick before?”

“No that is a new one on me. I’d have never suspected the Crocodile had feelings, or could sound that whiney about them. That was your King of Hell with him?”

Dean washed a mouthful of nachos down with a slug of beer before he answered.

“Yup and being a whiney bitch is kinda normal for him these days.”

Killian gave Dean a surprised look and snagged the beer pitcher with his hook. He topped of their tankards with the last of the beer.

“Do you think they’re right? That heroes cross the line into the darkness too often.”

Dean stretched his arms over his head, his joints making audible popping sounds.

“I don’t know dude. I stopped thinking of myself as a hero a long, long time ago. Crowley’s right, some of the shady shit I’ve done, probably makes me worse than him.”

Killian traced the point of his hook in the spill of beer on the table top.

“We’ve both switched sides more than once. I suppose real heroes don’t do that as easily as we have, or as often.”

Dean scrubbed a hand through his hair.

“Come on Hook I ain’t gonna get all girlie over this. God, Heaven, the Author, Fate whatever you want to call it has dumped a couple of lifetime’s worth of crap on us. I do the only thing I can these days. The job in front of me and damn the morals.”

Hook rapped the table in agreement and pushed himself to his feet. Dean grabbed his jacket and stood as well.

“Sounds like you Croc is gonna be raising some hell back in Storybrooke.”

“It’s what he does. As young Henry says we will stop him because that’s what we do. Crowley’s plans sound no less nefarious.”

“Hey if he wants to gank all the demons all I gotta do is stop him making more. I’ll take that as a win any day.”

At the door the two men shared a quick brotherly embrace and departed into the night.

Kirk the barman wiped down the now empty tables and shook his head. Must be a full moon or Tuesday night was the weekend for the weirdos. Those four guys were at least a quarter short of a dollar.


End file.
